Gasparilla King Blog

Private Things

In chapter two of King Daniel, Becca has to grip the banister to steady herself when she climbs the stairs to her mother's bedroom. At the top of the staircase, she sees Eula, her beloved nanny, who has cared for Becca ever since she was born. From the novel we know Eula is an elderly family retainer who is slowly losing her eyesight. Here is a clip from that scene in the hall...

In chapter two of King Daniel, Becca has to grip the banister to steady herself when she climbs the stairs to her mother's bedroom. At the top of the staircase, she sees Eula, her beloved nanny, who has cared for Becca ever since she was born. From the novel we know Eula is an elderly family retainer who is slowly losing her eyesight. Here is a clip from that scene in the hall. Becca raced up the last few steps and almost toppled into Eula's arms. She clung to the old woman and the musky scent of her skin. Eula's hair had turned white, and it was wound in a thick braid across her head. Her unusually large hands cupped Becca's face.

"Mr. Dan?" Eula squinted down the hall and then turned back to Becca. "I wouldn't say a thing to your Nattie, but don't you know he's up to no good." Eula puffed her cheeks out like she did when she was nervous. "And him Gasparilla King now. I'd give my little pinky to know what he's up to." She pinched the end of Becca's chin. "But don't go fretting about it. Old tomcats ain't rid of easy. And it's burden enough 'round here with Miss Natalie moping and your brother calling every other hour."

"Kurt's calling?" Becca asked.

Eula's eyes rolled. "Out of the blue!" she said. Looking for Mr. Dan. Just like you coming home. This whole household turned topsy-turvey, except your mama up here."

Becca peered down the hall. "How's mother?"

Sadness shadowed Eula's face. "Like a butterfly in a web." She squeezed Becca's arm. "But you go on up. She'll be surprised to see you, child."

Here's a scene that's not in the book.

Eula watched as Becca disappeared into her mother's room. She glanced around the darkened corridor, and then inched her hands along the wall searching for the light switch. "Gotta be 'round here somewhere," she mumbled under her breath. Then she stopped, puzzled by the curious events that just kept happening. First Mr. Dan goes missing, then Kurt starts calling, and now Becca shows up against all odds. A bit superstitious, Eula sniffed the air. Yep, the scent was rife with trouble. She remembered yesterday morning when she'd found Miss Natalie propped on a kitchen stool talking to herself. Something about explaining something to someone. Lately, Miss Natalie was more than her spooky-self. Eula had made her a cup of tea to calm her nerves, and then she went upstairs to make the beds.

That's when she'd found it. Lordy knows she wasn't looking for it either. Natalie's underwear drawer had been left half-way open with just a smidge of a silk scarf poking out. When Eula stuffed the scarf back in the drawer she'd felt it—steely hard and cold. She'd groped further into the drawer and let her fingers curl around the pistol. Then she pulled it out. She'd recognized it as one of Mr. Dan's fancy guns from his collection. But what was it doing hiding among Miss Natalie's private things? Eula guided herself along the wall. Matters were heating up 'round here, and she sure wished Mr. Dan would coming walking through the front door soon. No matter what kind of shape he was in.

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Daniel stood up and brushed smooth the creases in his overalls. His arms had grown hard and thin, and his belly had wasted, worn clean away. He was rugged and lean, a slide back to youth, and he imagined this time as an ecumenical passage, a time of shedding past sins. It was so clear now, what was not at all discernible in his life, and if he had to define it, he could, for the sense of what he felt this morning, watering the dead lawn and watching the worms slither up from the earth, was an adage, an apothegm that he could identify in one word: separate. And it was all so simple, the fallen leaves of an oak tree, squirrels rushing acorns to their nests, the lap of waves on Old Tampa Bay, a cardinal's song, the gusting wind, and sun, and heat, ice, flame, red and blue, and separate, and not as he viewed the world when he lived within its rainy arms.

Within minutes the Blew Bayou was gliding south toward the deep channel. They needed to get across the northern shoal of the island without hitting ground. Now the lighthouse beam lit up the port side of the boat markers that would guide them to the water that surrounded the island. Spider sat on the fishing throne keeping watch. As they motored toward the west side, the moon rose to twelve o'clock high and cast its light across Egmont Channel. Victor hiked a knee onto the seat next to the cabin door, so he could face the hull, while Kurt held on to the ladder. He told Evan to punch it.

Daniel settled his body, gone lank this last month from roaming, no sleep, no food, just an odd wakefulness as if between time, juxtaposed between the heavens where the sun's heat was not weighted against the skin but remote and veiled as music playing in a dream. And cool was unimaginable, for nothing was quenched or sated, but drawn out hard and moving endlessly toward an unknown. He settled himself into a metal lawn chair. From where the water hit the seared lawn, no longer a spray but a constant stream, worms floated to the surface. Daniel saw them wiggle in the dead grass, the small, common angleworm that he could easily gather and take to the river's edge to fish. He could take the worms down and show the boy, Quinn, who sat on a plastic bucket with his cane pole baited and his line flung into the Hillsborough River, waiting for a bite.